


Sam

by SammySlave



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bossy Dean Winchester, Bottom Sam, Bottom Sam Winchester, Cowboy Hats, Dom Dean Winchester, Gay Sex, Handcuffs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Prison Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Sub Sam Winchester, Top Dean, Top Dean Winchester, Western, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-13 01:17:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14739369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SammySlave/pseuds/SammySlave
Summary: Sam wakes up in the old west and gets a surprise.





	Sam

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Romance Novel Writing Challenge by Joey Winchester. I drew the title "Sam" from author Connie Mason and spun it into the world of Supernatural. Hope you enjoy.

The first thing Sam became aware of when he woke up was that he wasn’t in his bed at the bunker. Odd, since that was where he went to sleep last night. Above him was the dawn sky, below him the hard ground, and beside him a curl of warm smoke from a dwindled camp fire instead of Dean.

He sat up and took in his surroundings with confusion. It looked like he was in a desert wilderness, and he was dressed like a cowboy…the real thing, not that western warehouse crap Dean liked. The real thing included a holstered pistol at his hip and a knife tucked in his boot.

“Dean?” Sam called out as he stood up to look farther around him.

Nothing. There was no one else in sight except a large brown horse munching grass nearby.

“What the hell?” He asked himself.

Sam noticed some saddlebags on the horse and went over to inspect the contents. He had been hoping to find some clues as to where he was, all he found we a couple stacks of dollar bills. Closing the flap of the bag, he looked around again.

“Dean?!”

This couldn’t be good.

After bravely getting up on the horse and picking a direction to go, Sam found himself riding into a small town with rows of wooden buildings. He passed a saloon with scantily clad prostitutes waving and inviting him to spend some time, as small hotel, and an apothecary before stopping in front of the sheriff’s office.

The front window was covered with ads and wanted posters. He perused them curiously until he spotted a wanted poster with his name on it. “Wanted,” it said. “Sam Winchester for Bank Robbery.”

“Oh, crap,” Sam whispered and froze when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

“Turn around and raise your hands or I will shoot you where you stand.”

Sam put his hands up and turned around slowly. There before him was Dean pointing a deadly shotgun at him.

Sam sighed and started to lower his hands until Dean cocked his shotgun and made for better aim.

“Dean, it’s me, Sam!”

“I know who you are brother, and you’re under arrest for the robbery of the American Trust Bank.”

It was then that Sam saw the golden star gracing his brother’s chest. Dean was the sheriff.

Sam allowed Dean to cuff him and take him inside the Sheriff’s office to the holding cell. Sam stood at the bars in confusion.

“Dean, what’s going on?”

“What does it look like is going on, Sammy?” Dean replies as he stands on the other side of the bars looking at his brother. “You break the law and there are consequences.”

“But I didn’t break any laws,” Sam defended. “We went to bed last night at the bunker and this morning I woke in the middle of nowhere. I didn’t rob a bank.”

“Is that so? Then how do you explain that? Dean pointed to the saddlebags he had brought in a few minutes after locking Sam up. Sam knew what was inside.

“I don’t know how they got there and I don’t know how we got here.”

“What are you talking about, Sam? I’ve been the sheriff here for 7 years and you’ve always been a cow town drifter; ever since Mom and Dad died.

Sam sat down on the small cot in the corner of his cell, taking off his hat to finger comb his hair and think over what could have brought him here and why Dean didn’t share the same displacement issues. Maybe this was an angel trick like the weird office he and Dean had landed in where they were Smith and Wesson. Or a Trickster?

He was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard Dean speak again.

“You know, Sammy,” Dean stepped right up to the bars, “I might be persuaded to look the other way and let you go.”

“Oh yeah, how’s that?”

Dean raises an eyebrow.

Sam stood up again and approached Dean at the bars. When he was close enough, Dean trailed a finger up Sam’s bare arm giving him goosebumps.

“Do you remember how things used to be?”

Of course, Sam didn’t remember. How could he. He wasn’t this Dean’s Sam. Sam licked his lips and shook his head.

“Come on, Sammy, you don’t remember the hot days, the hotter nights? Just the two of us, and no one to tell the tales,” Dean whispered. “One more time, Sammy? I could stage your escape.”

So, it was like that. Like him and his own Dean. “Ok,” Sam whispered. He wasn’t sure what was going on here, but he could never say no to his Dean let alone this one. Besides, he needed to be free so he could find out what the hell was going on.

Dean walked over to the front door and locked it, returning to open the barred door to the jail cell holding Sam. “You know the drill, Sammy.” He tossed the keys on his desk and stepped inside.

Sam turned toward his brother and got on his knees with his cuffed hands resting on his thighs.

“That’s a good boy.” Dean unbuckled his belt and undid his trousers, releasing his hardening dick. He took a few steps forward, brushing the head against Sam’s lips. “You may begin.”

Sam knew exactly how his brother liked things. Following his brother’s command, he peeped out his tongue and licked the tip, then blew a breath of air on it. He watched as the shaft grew with the teasing stimulation. Sam gave it another lick, this time with the full flat on his tongue, causing it to bob up and down. When Dean fisted his hair, he opened his lips and took the hardened length deep into his mouth. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked as he pulled back. Forward and back he glided, saliva glistening on the rigid staff before him. Dean was no small man, reaching to the back of Sam’s throat to the point of gagging. When Dean got that deep, Sam would breath through his nose, swallowing to pull him in with a tight squeeze.

“Play with my balls,” Dean ordered.

Sam raised his bound hands to gently lift Deans testicles and rub them lightly.

Dean groaned, leaning his head back on his shoulders. “Fuck, Sammy, your mouth is amazing.”

A few more thrusts had Dean pushing Sam away. “Enough. Stand up.”

Sam did as he was told and stood. Once he was upright, Dean forced him around, face toward the bars. “Bend over and grab the bars,” Dean directed. Sam did so, the clank of the handcuffs meeting the iron.

Dean reached around Sam’s waist, unbuckling the belt and loosening his pants. Reaching inside, he found Sammy’s own thick cock hot and ready for action. Dean gave it a few strokes before pulling down his brothers pants and exposing his bare ass. Damn, that was a fine ass.

“Spread your legs.”

Sam did so, evening his hips with Dean’s.

Dean spread Sam’s cheeks, using the precum leaking from his own tumescence to slick his brother’s hole. Using the lubricant and adding some spit, he rubbed it around the tight entrance with his finger, gently pushing in the tip. Dean continued to use his spit and gather the fluid leaking from their members and to smooth the way for his fingers to stretch Sam’s passage and prepare him to accept his aching cock. One finger become two, then three as he scissored and widened his entrance.

Sam moaned with each breach inside. The pain and the pleasure mixing with his emotions.

“You ready to get fucked, Sammy?” Dean asked.

Sam didn’t answer.

Dean gave Sam’s buttock a hard slap, causing Sam to flinch and answer, “Yes!”

“Beg me.”

“Please, Dean, fuck me. Fuck me hard. I need your cock inside me, filling me up.”

“Again!” He demanded as he pressed the tip of his engorged member against Sam’s stretched hole.

“Please, please, please,” Sam repeated over and over. “Fuck me, now.”

Dean seized Sam’s hips with strong hands and shoved inside with a single thrust, causing the younger man to cry out. His baby brother was so tight. This wasn’t going to last very long.

Sam held on to the bars with a white knuckled grip as his brother began to pummel his ass with hard lunges, banging against his prostate and making him see stars. The rhythmic slap of their bodies coming together filled the cell.

“Dean, I need to come, please touch me?” Sam begged.

“No,” he said as he gave Sam another slap of the butt cheek. “I didn’t tell you to talk, and you sure as hell won’t come until I tell you to.” Dean pulled out and rubbed the head of his cock against Sam’s perineum, the tip caressing the younger man’s balls. “You ready to behave?”

Sam nodded, his sweat damp hair sticking to his flushed cheeks.

Dean slammed back inside, picking up his pace. He too, was beginning to sweat. He wanted this to last, but it was getting harder and harder to hold off.

“Sammy,” he breathed out of breath, “still want to come, baby?”

Sam nodded.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Yes, Dean…need to come.”

“Untouched,” Dean whispered in his ear.

Sam nodded again.

Dean pushed inside as far and hard as he could, hitting that sweet spot buried in his little brother over and over and over, again. He couldn’t wait any longer. “Now!” He commanded.

Sam’s orgasm hit hard, his untouched cock spurting creamy white fluid against the bars and floor before him. He cried out with each spasm, clenching on Dean’s penis like a vice.

Dean followed his boy into ecstasy, gasping for breath and painting the insides of his brother with his hot come. Leaning forward, he grasped the bars over Sam’s and held himself up.

“Sammy, you ok?”

Sam nodded.

After taking a few moments to catch their breaths, Dean stood back, pulling out of Sam. He tucked himself back in his pants and straightened his clothing.

“You may compose yourself, baby boy.”

Still in cuffs, Sam did as instructed, and pulled his pants up and buckled his belt. He stood up straight, looking at his brother.

Dean continued to look at Sam in return. After a few seconds, he couldn’t hold a straight face. His brother looked so disheveled and pouty. He started laughing and couldn’t stop.

Sam stood there confused as to why Sherriff Dean was laughing. “Why are you laughing? Aren’t you going to let me go?” He asked.

“Oh my God, Sammy, if you could only see your face.”

“What do you mean? I thought if I let you have me, you would set me free.”

“Sam, it’s me, Dean,” he said, holding his side from the laughter.

“What?”

Dean threw his hat off next to Sam’s on the cot, rubbing a hand through his wet hair. “Yeah, it’s me. I’m not really a sheriff. I had Cas set us up in this place, thought it would be a cool role play.” He said all this as he pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the cuffs on his brother.

As soon as Sam’s hands were free, Dean found a fist connecting with his jaw.

“Ow, was that necessary?” He asked rubbing the offended area.

“Seriously, Dean? I thought we were in trouble,” Sam was exasperated. “Instead you were living out one of your western porn fantasies? You’re unbelievable.” Sam walked out of the cell, rubbing his sore wrists from the shackles and slammed the cell door closed behind him.

“Wait!” Dean yelled as he watched Sam grab the keys from the desk and lock the cell door with him still inside it. “Sammy, let me out,” He demanded as he stalked towards the door.

“No way, Dean.”

“Sammy,” He warned. “This isn’t funny. Let me out now.”

“No.”

“Sam!” He yelled.

Sam sat at the desk with his legs propped on top, swinging the keys from a finger, a dimpled smile on his face. “Beg me.”

The End.


End file.
